


The Last Time

by statichearts



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: 10x8 fill in, Everyone's sad, M/M, Sad!Ian, Sad!Mickey, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, in which mickey has had enough
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22090159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statichearts/pseuds/statichearts
Summary: Mickey loves Ian but when push comes to shove, there is only so much one person can take before a heart breaks.Set after the blowup at the courthouse during 10x8.
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Comments: 12
Kudos: 129





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about making this a split perspective fic but I can't get Mickey's voice out of my head. He's not thinking rationally so anything he might say, is not necessarily my opinion on what went down. Part two in Ian's perspective will come after the events of 10x9.
> 
> soundtrack: killing me to love you by vancouver sleep clinic

It had been years since Mickey had felt this kind of pain. Dread had filled his chest, anger burning in his chest, tears flowing into his eyes. It was so oddly familiar and yet the sensation of falling again made him sick. It was supposed to be different this time. Ian had told him it was different this time. 

The punch wasn't intentional as crazy as that might seem looking back. Mickey was known for throwing punches, his old ways ever present no matter which move he made. He was the aggressor, the angry one. Mickey didn't know how to speak. Mickey didn't know how to handle his emotions. Maybe they were right about him. Maybe Mickey didn't know how to handle this. In reality, the words had been heavy on his tongue, weighed down by years of staying silent, and Mickey just couldn't get them to budge. He couldn't scream his resentment into Ian's face though he should have. He should have done anything except for what he did. Mickey watched Ian tumble down the stairs and in that moment, his anger flickered back to worry. The thoughts passed through his head, the softest 'fuck' leaving his lips as he hovered over Ian. 

_What the fuck are you doing? What did you do?_

It was a gut reaction that was laced in years of anger. Anger at himself. Anger at his father. Anger at Ian who could never stop leaving him. Mickey never got what he wanted. Looking down at Ian, Mickey sighed with the guilt written all over his worn features. He knelt down beside Ian and carefully lifted him up, easing him into a seated position as best he could. Mickey wouldn't leave him. Still his eyes refused to meet Ian's, whose green eyes were searching Mickey's features - hurt and begging. 

"Mickey." Ian breathed out, biting down on his bottom lip as he gripped the knee of his now broken leg. 

"Gonna get you an ambulance," Mickey muttered back in response, his jaw rigid and his eyes reddened as he stopped himself from breaking down. 

The silence that passed through them was deafening. Mickey felt Ian's eyes on him, knew that he was eager to speak but whatever he wanted to say, never came out. Maybe he knew Mickey would refuse to listen. Maybe he was painfully aware of how broken they were or worse, Ian knew he didn't have the words to fix it. It took five minutes for the ambulance to come and Ian made a fruitless attempt to stand up on his own. Mickey rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around his waist, feeling his heart pound in his chest so hard that darkness blurred his vision. 

"Fell down the stairs." Mickey started when the EMT's approached, conveniently leaving out why exactly he had fallen. No one would punish Mickey better than he punished himself. "I'll call his brother. Have someone pick him up." He didn't let Ian get a word in edgewise, fixing him with a cold stare as the other men took over. The two didn't break eye contact as he was loaded in, both of them searching the other as if this had all been a giant nightmare. That maybe eventually one of them might wake up and they'd go back to how they had been just an hour earlier. Happy. Engaged. Together. 

Mickey's eyes welled up again and he pulled out the cigarette carton he had slipped into his pocket. As he lit one up, one of the EMT's asked him if he wanted to ride with just in case and Mickey paused, glancing up at Ian one more time. "Nah, I'm good. He doesn't need me." 

The man nodded and the door closed fast enough that Mickey didn't catch the broken expression on Ian's face. Worse than any pain his leg was causing him. Even if he had, there was no changing how every inch of Mickey lit up with betrayal. The ambulance rolled away and Mickey sat down, breathing out smoke as he let his heart rate fall back down. Here he was, along again but it wasn't prison this time or a dusty Mexican border. He was ten minutes from home and yet felt infinitely more distant from it than he ever had before. Mickey finished off two cigarettes before he started moving, walking down to the L and taking it wherever it stopped. 

It was better than walking. Better than standing around alone with his thoughts. Mickey had spent too many years that way. For once he wanted to stop thinking. Once the train stopped, Mickey made a beeline for whichever bar was open. It didn't matter which. Gay, straight. He just wanted whiskey and fast. Alcohol was easy and quick, a nicer option than the thousand and one vindictive plans that rolled around his head. Mickey pushed his way through the crowd to take the first available spot at the bar, pounding on the table for the whole bottle. The bartender eyed him for a moment before handing it over, realizing it wasn't worth the grief. 

Mickey didn't keep track of how long he sat there. He didn't think about how the alcohol wasn't hitting him the way it should have, wasn't numbing the pain enough to keep him moving. His eyes burned from the force at which Mickey pushed the tears away, his knuckles white from holding them balled up in a fist for so long. Guys came up to him every now and then, some of them asking his name, others asking how he's doing. Mickey only paid attention to the small guy that took the spot next to him, offering to buy Mickey a drink.

Red hair. Light eyes. Good enough.

It had to be around 2am when Mickey made his way back to the Gallagher house. Where else was he meant to go? Taking up space in his dad's house never did him any fucking good. He didn't know anyone else to take pity on him. There was no option except stomach it but only for now. He wouldn't crack again. Mickey took the stairs more quietly than he ever had before, pushing open the creaking door with a bruised hand. He couldn't risk waking anyone up. Most of all, not Ian. The last person he wanted to see was Ian. Kicking off his shoes, Mickey felt the crumpled piece of paper stuffed into his jeans. Byron's number rested in his back pocket, written on a whiskey smelling cocktail napkin. He didn't feel as guilty as he should have. Byron was alright, talked too much and complimented Mickey on stupid shit like his shoes but nothing else happened. Byron was no one. Not that Mickey had someone else. Not anymore. 

The house felt eerily quiet, empty almost with everyone dead silent in their rooms. It was comforting but also suffocating, making Mickey lightheaded as he sat back on the couch. He imagined Ian upstairs, breathing softly in his bed. His broken leg propped up on a pillow. He probably slept just fine without Mickey while Mickey could barely even breathe without Ian. He rested his head on the arm of the sofa, one hand coming over to run over his face as tears started slipping out, causing him to swear. It felt worse than all those other times. Worse when Ian questioned him. Worse when they were so close and Ian shut him down again. Mickey didn't want to hear reason. He didn't want a string of excuses and 'I love you's. All he felt was the sickening weight of being left again, right at the brink of having something better in his life. For once. 

It was a pattern that Mickey never broke from. Ian broke his heart and Mickey put himself back together, fought for love, fought for the chance to be loved by Ian. Looking up at the ceiling, Mickey thought about Ian's arms around him. He thought about all those times he didn't have that, how hard it had been and how much harder it had been to know Ian didn't want the same thing. Maybe this was the last time.

Mickey rubbed at his tired eyes, burning them raw as he wiped at his stupid fucking tears. No, Mickey deserved better than this. He wanted more than this. More than chasing after someone that didn't want him. He'd gotten too complacent, found solace in having Ian as his again. Mickey should have known better. It took him hours to get to sleep, curled up under a blanket he found pushed up under a pillow cushion. He'd be out of there before Ian woke up in the morning, not having the strength to face him and his lies. All Mickey knew was that Ian Gallagher wasn't going to do this to him again.

No. Not anymore. This was the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr: [here](http://xgoldendays.tumblr.com/)  
> or twitter: [here](http://twitter.com/poppyupbeat)


End file.
